


Hello, You Fool, I Love You

by Lady_Vibeke



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bromance to Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Or Is It?, Pining, Steelatom - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Wingwoman Zari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: Nathaniel Heywood was in love. Hopelessly, tragically, comically in love.With Raymond Palmer.And that was a fact.





	Hello, You Fool, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Opening quote from: http://anomalyah.tumblr.com/post/149514423543/broken09

“ _That idiot is in love with you! Did you never know or guess this?”_

— anomalyah.tumblr.com

Nathaniel Heywood was in love. Hopelessly, tragically, comically in love.

With Raymond Palmer.

And that was a fact.

Zari could see those stupid three words – _I love you, I love you, I love you_ – flashing through Nate's eyes every damn time Ray was around or was even _mentioned_.

As sickening and disturbing as it was, she couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the poor fellow, who wore his heart on his sleeve so openly Zari felt mortified for him. On his part, Ray was a bit harder to read, not because he wasn't showing any interest in Nate, but rather because he was always so good and transparent to anyone that he probably couldn't even tell the difference himself.

Ray had been rambling about Zari wasn't even sure what for a solid ten minutes, now, and for the whole time Nate had been goggling at him, arms crossed and a shoulder against the wall, with that pathetic longing look painted on his face.

Was he even aware he looked so stupid – and so _in love_?

Unable to put up with this revolting nonsense any further, Zari groaned to herself and walked up to Nate. “Hey.”

He barely registered her presence. “Hey, Z.” His eyes were still fixed on Ray's figure, following every gesture, every expression. Probably not getting one single word.

“Are you ever going to tell him?”

“Uh?” It took Nate a few seconds to register what Zari had said; when the meaning of her words kicked in, he had the nerve to blink at her confusedly, as if he hadn't been staring adoringly at one precise person for the better part of the last few minutes: “Tell what to whom?”

Zari rubbed a hand over her face. There were chances this idiot _wasn't_ aware he was being so obvious. “Buddy,” she sighed pitifully. “You're not even subtle. The way you look at Ray? Same way I look at food.”

Nate made an outraged face: “No, I don't!” He yelled under his breath, but Zari's meaningful gaze transformed his face into a sorrowful frown. “I most absolutely don- Oh, fuck, I do. I do, don't I?”

“Sorry, man.” Zari forced herself to give him a sympathetic pat on his back. Someone needed to push this disaster bisexual in the right direction. “Why don't you talk to him?”

Nate's shoulder slipped against the wall, almost making him lose his balance. “ _What?”_ He went very pale and then very red. “I can't just go over there and _tell him_ , Z!”

“Why not?”

“Because!” he stuttered, scanning the room as if to make sure nobody wasn't listening, then turned at Zari again: “Who even does that, anyway?”

Her eyebrows arched. “Mature people who face their feelings instead of pining with a kicked puppy face?”

She saw Nate's features darken and his eyes drop. A quick glance towards Ray, a fond half-smile, then he was sad again. “He doesn't feel the same.”

Of all her bad ideas, Zari was quite positive this was one of the worst. When she had given her advice to Sara about Ava, at least she had been talking to actual adults who more or less knew how to deal with their emotions. But right here? Giant babies too scared and insecure to even acknowledge their feelings to themselves? This was more than she'd bargained for.

“How do you know, if you never told him?” she insisted with a nudge of her hip. “I see the way he looks at you, and looks after you.”

Nate's loving gaze fluttered once again towards Ray and caressed him like a precious treasure. “He's like that with everyone.” It didn't sound like a complaint. He was clearly proud of Ray's selflessness. Which made Zari sigh like a touched mom.

“No, my friend,” she said as gently as she was capable of. “Ray is nice and caring with everyone, that is true, but you?” She patted his shoulder encouragingly. “He always goes the extra mile, for you.”

Nate smiled fondly and sighed like the lovesick sap he was. “He's the best, isn’t he?”

Zari couldn't honestly deny that. Ray was a wonderful guy, she could see why Nate was so taken with him.

“Be a big boy and talk to him, Nathaniel. You won't regret it.”

*

“Wake up, man. Come on. Come on. Wake up, please.”

Nothing changed in Ray's dreadful stillness. Nate squeezed his hand tighter.

Wounds and nasty bruises stood out starkly against Ray's paleness. A swollen black eye. A purple cheekbone. Ugly scratches along the jawline. A split lip, still glistening with half-clotted blood. And there was a deep cut running down his neck to disappear under the collar of his shirt. Nate couldn't see the rest of it, but he knew what it looked like: he'd seen the mad griffin claw through Ray's suit until its talons cut into his exposed flesh.

Everything had gone red. He'd seen Ray collapse to his knees, a deep slash gushing blood across his chest, and his body had moved before he could even process the situation. When the griffin had come down to give its final stroke, it had crashed against a shield of steel.

Nate had taken down the beast in a rampage of blind fury, but when he'd returned to Ray there was too much blood on the ground and no pulse in his friend.

Ray wasn't dead. Gideon had patched him up and replaced all the blood he had lost, but he wasn't waking up, and Nate was going crazy in there.

It had been two days.

“Don't do this to me, bro,” he muttered, voice thin and broken. Ray's hand was eerily cold under his own. “Come on, buddy. Come back to me.”

He had rarely cried in his life. Even in his darkest, loneliest days, tears had never been easy for him to shed. Now he felt like he needed to cry every tear he had saved so far.

He never left Ray's side. He hardly ate, despite Sara's threats to have him sedated and force-fed. At day five, Mick told him he was starting to stink.

At day six, he punched the wall and broke three phalanges in his right hand. He didn't let Gideon fix that. He wanted the pain. He needed it to keep himself centered.

At day seven, Ray opened his eyes, and Nate's heart stopped.

“Bro?”

“Hey,” Ray greeted shakily, his voice a mere throaty whisper. “You look awful, man.” He tried to smile and grimaced in pain.

Nate snorted out a laugh more similar to a sob. He drew his chair even closer to Ray's bed and grinned. He didn't know what to do with his hands: he wanted to hug Ray, but the poor soul was injured in so many spots it was hard to find a safe hugging angle. In the end, it was Ray who sought for his hand, and Nate obliged without hesitation.

Ray scowled at the bandages. “Did the griffin do this?”

“Ah, no. Long story.” Nate put his good hand over Ray's. “You gave me quite a scare back there.”

“Nah, I'm fine. Reasonably,” Ray promised. His breath was ragged and slow, but everything else seemed to be alright. Some rest and, give it a few days, he would be back on his feet. Thankfully.

“Never do this to me again, pal,” said Nate, who still had Zari's words buzzing in his mind. He had almost lost Ray without telling him that... that he... “I don't know what I'd do if you...”

“You saved me,” Ray cut in wistfully. He looked at Nate with a strange light in his eyes. “I wouldn't be here, if it hadn't been for you. My knight in shining... everything.”

Nate shifted uncomfortably in his chair. If it had been anyone else, he would have marked this line as flirting. But this being Ray Palmer, anything was possible.

"I'd die for you, man,” he declared, maybe a bit too seriously. “So, please, let's try not to get to that point again.”

The way Ray looked at him – affectionately, like he was the most important thing in the world – made Nate's heart quiver.

 _Tell him! Tell him!_ , Zari squealed in his mind.

But then Ray said: “Me too, pal. That's what best buddies do, right?”, and Nate's courage retreated like a terrified rabbit.

“Yeah,” he replied absently. “Right.”

He was too glad Ray was okay to feel sorry for himself.

*

There was a brief knock on the door before Ray's head popped in with a radiant smile. “How's it going, buddy?”

Buried in his bed under a pile of blankets, Nate groaned. “Every single bone in my body is icy and sore.”

So maybe it hadn't been the best idea to chase that Kappa into that frozen lake in Hokkaido. Turns out that, even if above zero, cold waters could do as much damage to the human body as a proper beating.

Ray sauntered into the room carrying a tray with a steamy bowl of something that smelled like tomato and herbs.

“Here,” He sat down on the armchair by Nate's bed and handed him a clean napkin. “I brought you some soup.” He waited expectantly for Nate to put the towel around his neck, a spoonful of soup ready to be delivered. Nate gave him an horrified expression when he realised what he wanted to do.

“You can't feed it to me!”

The smile on Ray's lips didn't falter the slightest. “Why not?”

It wasn't like he didn't _want_ Ray to feed soup to him – hell, how cute would that be? – but he couldn't handle this, not so suddenly.

“It's...” _Too intimate_. “Humiliating.”

“You're _sick_. What's so humiliating in being taken care of?”

“What's next?” asked Nate, almost desperately. “You gonna help me shower?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Nope. We're not having this conversation.”

“You're all flushed.” Without any warning, Ray leaned forward and put a hand over Nate's forehead. “I think you're running a fever,” he said with a worried crease between his brows.

Nate felt a rush of _something_ flare in his chest. It definitely wasn't a fever, but if Ray wanted to label it as such, he was free to do that. Especially if it made him so eager to touch Nate all over his face.

“I'm fine, man,” he assured dismissively. Ray removed his hand, not entirely convinced, but Nate could still feel the burning print of his touch over his skin. He wanted more of it, but couldn't lie to Ray like this. “I promise.”

Ray sat back keeping an inquiring eye on him. “Alrighty,” he said after a while. He retrieved the spoon from the bowl in his lap and pointed it to Nate's mouth one more time. “C'mon. Say 'Aaah'...”

Nate glared but complied without further complaints. The soup was hot and delightful, a blessing for his freezing body. It would take hours for the cold to stop oozing out of his limbs.

Ray, on the other hand, seemed to be taking a certain pleasure in this task. Then again, he was a nurturer by nature and Nate wouldn't have expected any less from him.

“There!” exclaimed Ray happily once the bowl was empty and Nate's stomach full and warm. He reached out to take the napkin off Nate's neck and folded it neatly to place it back on the tray. “Do you feel like having that shower, now?”

Nate blushed to his toes. He grumpily sank down into the pillows to try to conceal it. “I hate you,” he mumbled into the blankets, but Ray grinned softly.

“No, you don't.”

Two minutes later, Nate watched him leave with a pang in his heart and sighed dejectedly.

_No, I don't._

*

They were supposed to meet for a sparring session. Which generally involved _sparring_ , Nate was sure, and not any kind of causal nudity. So why on earth was Ray waiting for him without his shirt on, exactly?

“What are you doing?” asked Nate as he entered the room, mouth dry and hands suddenly sweaty. He hadn't signed up for this. He came here to enjoy a healthy friendly fight as per usual; nobody had mentioned there would be gratuitous displays of abs and pecs and... and...

Ray came forward, utterly oblivious of Nate's distress, and clapped a hand against his back. “We're sparring, right?”

The lines of his muscles were so neat and defined they were almost obscene to look at. _Almost_. Nate wanted to cry: this was like his favourite dream and worst nightmare at the same time.

“You took your shirt off,” he babbled.

“Yeah, it's kinda hot.”

 _You have no idea, man,_ he thought, tearing his eyes off Ray's chest to try to focus them on something less erotic. He went for the neck, but nope – too many sexy tendons, and Ray's Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke. Shoulders? Not an option. Those deltoids were sinful. Face? Yeah, face sounded good. Eyes, not lips. Absolutely _not_ lips.

“Take yours off, too.”

Nate frowned. Had he really just heard that?

“ _What?”_ he turned to Ray, clutching at his shirt like he was afraid someone may rip it off him. _“_ No!”

“You're sweating,” Ray noted matter-of-factly.

_Yeah, and whose fault is that?_

“I'm not taking my shirt off to spar!”

The confused look on Ray's face suggested he probably thought Nate was overreacting. Which, okay, point, but how many things could go wrong between two guys sparring together _half naked_?

Or – or _right_ , but he didn't have the guts to even consider that option.

“Okay.” Ray started warming up, waiting for Nate to do the same. “Shall we?”

It didn't go well. Predictably.

Nate wasn't as good as Ray, but he usually pulled it off quite well, and sometimes he even managed to win. Or Ray let him, he wasn't sure. He liked to think he was physically capable of bringing Ray Palmer down.

Not today, though.

When he ended up with his back on the floor for the fifth time in a row, Ray held out his hand and pulled him up with a concerned scowl: “You seem distracted.”

Nate groaned in frustration. _You don't say?_

They were standing so close he could feel Ray's body heat irradiating from him like fire. Nate wanted so desperately to lean forward and hug him. Not because he was six feet three of rippling muscles carved out of marble – that was a plus, surely, but... Ray was warm in any possible way the term could describe. Warm, and bright, and soft, and... and... so damn lovable.

A wave of melancholy washed over Nate. Ray was right here, in front of him, yet he felt like he was light years away, out of his reach.

 _Tell him, you idiot!_ , Zari yelled in his conscience.

“Maybe we should call it a night. I'm not feeling great.”

Nate picked up his sweater from the floor and headed for the door without a word, but Ray caught up and clasped an arm around his shoulder. Then, with a smile brighter than the sun, he said: “You know what? I've got a better idea: I'm making you pancakes.”

Nate stopped to look Ray in the eye, trying to decide what he wanted more: to cry on his shoulder or punch him for being so disarmingly adorable.

It was an unfair low blow.

Not _Let's make pancakes._

Or _I'm making pancakes, wanna join?_

No. Ray had said _I'm making you pancakes._

As in _I'm going to take care of you._

What was a guy to do?

A sense of bitter helplessness tinged his thoughts. How was he supposed not to be in love with this giant teddy bear stuffed with everything good in the world? Always so attentive, and kind, and too good, too pure...

 _I never stood a chance, did I?_ , Nate pitied himself, watching Ray with eyes full of affection and gratitude, and a shade of sadness. _There was no way I could not end up falling for that beautiful soul of yours._

In the end, would it hurt so much to have pancakes with Ray? One more dagger in Nate's bleeding heart wouldn't kill him.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, those little three worlds tickling on the tip of his tongue as he walked to the kitchen under the heavy warmth of Ray's arm.

*

Mick and Charlie were challenging Ava and Sara in a drinking contest at the counter. Next to them, Zari was happily sipping a beer with John, who was working on his fifth whiskey. Nate had just dismissed a blonde (who had been trying to buy him a drink _very insistently_ ) and was now waiting for Ray to get back with another refill for their beers.

How he and Ray had ended up alone at a table was still a mystery to him. It had happened spontaneously – the two of them grabbing their order and moving in sync towards the closest free spot like... like ...

“... a couple.”

Nate jumped. “What?” Ray couldn't suddenly be a mind reader, could he?

“I was undecided, so I took a couple each,” Ray repeated, placing four beers in front of Nate, then sat down across the table. “Two lagers and two double malt. Let's see which one is better.”

Nate eyed the foamy glasses without the slightest interest and simply picked the closest.

“She was pretty,” said Ray conversationally, sweeping the same beer as Nate's towards himself.

Nate's blank stare into emptiness didn't change. He didn't pretend not to know what Ray was talking about. “Was she?”

Ray raised his brows meaningfully. “And she was hitting on you. Quite shamelessly.”

“Yeah, not interested.”

A confused frown darkened Ray's face as he watched Nate gulp down his glass and move to the next like it was water.

“Is everything okay, buddy?”

“Because I don't care about a hot woman hitting on me?” snapped Nate, who hadn't meant to, but something was wrong with him tonight and he hadn't been able to stop himself. Regretfully.

Ray looked hurt by his harshness. “You look... sad,” he commented, with such sympathy Nate wanted to slap himself for being so unnecessarily rude to him. Ray didn't deserve this. It wasn't his fault Nate was lovelorn and bitter.

 _If you just told him!_ , whined the little voice in his head. Why did his conscience sound like Zari? Nate shut it down before it made him do something terribly foolish.

“Must be the midnight blues,” he sighed instead, trying to sound more gentle.

“It's two AM,” Ray objected, and Nate couldn't stifle a groan.

“Come on, bro, show some mercy!” He went for the third beer, but Ray snatched it before he could reach it.

“You've had enough alcohol for tonight.”

“Thanks, mom,” Nate replied, attempting to snatch it back, to no avail.

Ray pierced him with a severe glare. “I'm serious, man: this is not good for you.”

“Whatcha gonna do? Punch me?”

“If I have to, yes.”

Despite his frustration, Nate found himself smiling.

Ray.

Stupidly wonderful Ray. Of course he would punch Nate for his own sake.

“You know,” he said, the smile still broad on his lips, twinkling in his eyes. “You're the only person in the world who can be aggressively caring.”

Ray grinned, though a bit unsure. “Thanks. I guess?”

There were two guys sharing nachos a few tables away. Not boys, but grown ass men, romantically feeding each other while speaking in a low voice, eyes dreamily locked together.

They made it seem so easy...

“Okay, whatever,” Nate stood up, grabbed his jacket and then Ray. “Let's get out of here.”

“Nate, are you- ”

“Please,” Nate begged, pushing him through the crowded club towards to exit. As far as possible from the happy duo. “Let's just go.” His voice broke a little. Perhaps Ray hadn't noticed.

“Okay,” Ray said, a hand splayed over Nate's sternum, trying to calm him down. “Okay,” he repeated soothingly. He guided him outside, to the fresh air of the night, and helped him walk as soon as he noticed Nate's balance wasn't exactly optimal. “I got you. Let's go.”

Nate abandoned himself to Ray's lead. He felt safe there, surrounded by Ray's calming voice and his soapy scent.

He snorted to himself.

_Soap._

Typical Ray, smelling like something so simple and comforting. Smelling clean and immaculate and like... like...

 _Home_.

“I love you, bro,” Nate muttered against the collar of Ray's jacket, wondering if it was the alcohol making him so dizzy or just Ray's mere presence. The latter, probably.

He felt a brush on top of his head (Ray's chin? Or... Or...?) then heard a quiet laugh. “I love you, too.”

Nate closed his eyes, swallowing a painful lump in his throat.

_No, you don't. Not the way I do._

*

Nate was frankly starting to believe destiny enjoyed toying with his sanity. Of all the crazy Thanksgivings he had had in his life, this definitely took the cake.

Being stranded in what he guessed was probably Lapland during a snowstorm wasn't the weirdest thing to have happened to Nate during a mission, and certainly it wasn't the most dangerous, but being stuck in the literal middle of nowhere at below forty degrees wasn't the funniest time he'd had, either.

It didn't help that he was alone with Ray, because _obviously_ the others had ended up who knew where and when.

Ray wasn't doing great. The idiot had used his body to protect Nate from the fall – which had most certainly saved Nate's life – and now he had a nasty cut on his temple and possibly a few cracked ribs. And they were freezing to death, of course.

At least they were dressed for Himalaya and not for summer camp.

“Of all the cold ass places we could have ended up, it had to be a land with no woods and no caves,” Nate complained with Ray lying in his lap. They'd found a hole full of dried moss beneath a few boulders covered in snow – perhaps some animal's former lair – and Nate had dragged Ray in, leaving a thin trail of blood that had vanished way too quickly under the falling snow. There was barely room for them to move, in there, but at least it meant minimum heat dispersion.

“I th-think my head f-finally stopped bleeding,” said Ray hoarsely. The hem of the coat sleeve he'd been pressing over the wound was soaked, but at least he had indeed stopped bleeding.

“You okay?” Nate asked, well aware Ray was too pale to be okay. He felt him shaking through the heavy layers of clothing and wonder how long they had before the worst happened.

“I'll live,” Ray replied, and it was the least convincing lie Nate had ever heard from him. Which was a lot to say.

“Hang in there, pal. I'm sure they'll find us soon.”

“We should lose a f-few layers of clothing and share b-body heat.”

If Nate's facial muscles hadn't been completely numb, he would have laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, not a chance.”

“H-huddling f-for warmth is the b-best way to f-fight hypothermia,” Ray argued, so weakly Nate hardly heard him. “I can't f-feel my feet anymore.”

“Are you really that cold?”

“Look, n-never mind. If you're n-not c-comfortable with this, we sh-shouldn't- ”

Yes, Ray was _that_ cold. Nate wasn't going to neglect him just because he was afraid of how his own body could react to a lack of clothing. He'd rather die of embarrasment than let Ray die of cold. The decision was easily made.

“Let's get rid of these damn clothes,” he sighed, and started peeling off his iced coat. Once he reached his last layer, he proceeded to remove Ray's clothes.

In all of this, Ray had the presence and nerve to _joke_ : “B-buy me a drink, f-first?”

 _Oh my god, I love you_ , Nate thought, laughing out loud. He definitely wasn't going to let Ray die here in this goddamn frozen hell, if it was the last thing he did.

He wrapped himself and Ray in a messy bundle of their mixed clothes. It did feel warmer, though just slightly.

“If we make it out of Finnish Hoth alive,” he panted. “I'll buy you the whole dinner.”

Ray, burrowed up to his head, grinned against Nate's chest. “Deal.”

It wasn't as bad as Nate had anticipated. They weren't even naked. They had these ridiculous onesies Gideon had produced for them, and the thick wool was the only thing between Nate and Ray.

Each of Ray's shivers was a bullet to Nate's heart. He held him closer and closer, until he was lying against his chest enveloped in his arms. He was afraid that if he loosened his grip even a little, Ray might slip away from him forever.

 _Tick tock, baby_ , said the ghost of Zari's petulant voice. _Tick tock. Time's running out._

Suddenly, _holding on for dear life_ acquired a whole new meaning. A very tangible one.

When the team finally found them, they were unconscious, glued together by the snow.

Nate woke up several hours later in the medbay, still shivering, still frozen. Ray asleep in his arms.

_I got you, man. I got you._

*

Movie night was one of the rare moments when Nate was allowed to sprawl himself next to Ray without fearing anyone questioning his intentions. Ray was – bless his soul – an incorrigible cuddler, and Nate was only happy to have his best friend curled up against him under a fluffy blanket to watch trash movies together. Maybe it wasn't much, but he treasured every second of it.

“She's gonna pick the vampire.”

Nate caught himself off guard with that disappointed remark. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.

It made Ray turn to him indignantly: “No way!”

Nate huffed with an air of superior wisdom. “He's a hot jerk. Chicks dig hot jerks.”

“You think he's _hot_?”

“Ew, no! But Bella clearly does. Brooding, mysterious stranger versus nice old friend?” Nate gestured towards the TV, where vampire and werewolf were glaring into each other's face. “Poor Jacob's got nothing on Edward.”

For some reason, his mind kept replacing not-so-hot-Edward's face with yes-very-hot-Nora-Darhk's delicate features. Absurd, honestly.

“Edward would be a very ill advised choice,” observed Ray with a worried frown. “They've got nothing in common and he's... well...”

“Creepy as fuck?”

“Yeah.” Ray shifted his position a couple of times and the blanket fell of Nate's shoulders. Ray promptly tucked it back. “Bad guys are overrated, anyway. I'd go for the good guy.”

Nate's ears were suddenly very hot. “Shut up.”

“She's clearly conflicted,” Ray argued. “And who could ever make a better partner than your own best friend?”

Nate cleared his throat uncomfortably. It was too hot in there.

This whole conversation was about the movie, he reminded himself.

This had nothing to do with real life and real people and real situations.

No parallelism intended. None at all.

“Yeah. I- I guess it makes sense. But,” He cautiously eyed Ray sideways. “Wouldn't you be afraid to ruin the friendship?”

Ray looked at him with the softest smile. “You can still be friends with your lover.”

Nate's heart had started beating furiously in his rib cage, so violently he was afraid Ray may _hear_ it.

This. Was. About. A. Damn. Movie. There was nothing to read into Ray's words. No subtext.

They were discussing Bella, Edward and Jacob, not Ray, Nora and Nate. So it was technically just casual curiosity to inquire a bit further, right?

“I meant...” Nate licked his lips, pulse racing. His hands were shaking, hidden beneath the blanket. “What if it's unrequited?”

“Oh.” Ray's forehead creased in concentration. It took him a few seconds to make up his mind: “Well, I guess it takes more than that to lose a true friend.” He grinned at Nate, clearly proud of his response. “Don't you think?”

Nate wasn't thinking at all. He was lost in Ray's eyes – that warm, soft darkness he never seemed to get used to. It still hypnotised him every time. It still effortlessly tore through his defenses, making him feel weak and giddy and so damn _vulnerable_.

“I hope so,” he whispered, trying not to think he and Ray were close enough to kiss, if only they'd wanted to.

_If only._

They went back to the movie, eventually, and no one seemed to have anything else to say about love triangles and jeopardised relationships.

Ray fell asleep halfway through the story.

Nate wasn't moving, too afraid to wake him up. He loved this. He loved feeling Ray's weight against his chest, his breath on his neck. Carefully, he lifted an arm and allowed Ray to snuggle closer in his sleep and throw an arm across Nate's waist.

There.

_There._

It would be so simple. So _natural_.

Ray's head was resting just above his hammering heart. All Nate had to do was bend down one inch or two and his lips could have brushed a kiss in his hair.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't. It felt wrong, with Ray sleeping so peacefully in his arms. It wouldn't be fair. He wouldn't betray his trust. Even if this meant he would never get to kiss him at all.

So he sighed, squeezing his arm around Ray, then propped his chin over his head and, emotionally exhausted, let his eyes flutter closed.

_Shut up and take what you get, Nate._

*

Zari was sick and tired of the situation.

Nate's moping had reached intolerable levels. He carried around his wretched face from room to room with sagging shoulders and a dramatically unspirited demeanour, leaving a plethora of miserable sighs in his wake.

It went without saying that Ray wasn't remotely aware of any of this.

So at some point, out of personal exasperation, Zari decided to do something that she perfectly knew she was most certainly going to regret.

She waited for Nate to leave the library (which he did without forgetting to cast a forlorn glance behind) so that she could speak with Ray alone.

“We need to talk,” she announced unceremoniously as she straddled the chair in front of the desk.

On the other side of it, Ray gave her a questioing scowl. “That sounds ominous.”

“Look,” Zari pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, trying to brace herself for the conversation she was going to face. She was so going to regret this, but she couldn't bear to see Nate like that. “This is none of my business and I probably shouldn't meddle, but I can't keep quiet any longer.” She looked at Ray sternly. “You're killing that poor soul.”

Ray, of course, – sweet, oblivious Ray – didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about. “Who?” he asked, so candidly Zari wanted to cry in frustration. No wonder poor Nate was on the verge of depression.

“Nate!” She scrunched her face in an attempt to contain her disconcert. When she looked at Ray again, she was almost desperate: “He's been trying so hard to make a move on you, man! And you're so infuriatingly unaware it's not even funny anymore.”

Ray gaped and blinked. “Nate has been... _what?_ ”

Was it okay to cry? Zari wanted to cry.

“He's head over heels for you!” she wailed, fists balled up to keep herself from punching the idiot in front of her. “Come on, seriously? He can’t even hide it!”

There was a slow but significant change in Ray's perplexed look. Zari could mark the exact moment the meaning of her words kicked in and wiped away all the confusion to replace it with sudden, overwhelming wonder.

“Oh?”

She sighed, feeling the tinest bit of sympathy for him: he was so cute, all flustered and baffled, she almost felt like hugging him. Which she didn't, opting for a reassuring smile, instead.

“Do us all a favour and talk to that dork, okay?”

“I will,” said Ray, his focus lost somewhere far, far away. He returned the smile absently. “Thanks, Z.”

*

“About that dinner you owe me...”

Nate looked up from his book to find Ray lingering on the doorway with a weird, sheepish expression of his face.

“Yeah?”

Ray dug his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “You still up for it?”

It was no big deal. Nate knew better than to make a big deal out of anything, when it came to Ray and his gallantires. For his own sanity.

“Yeah. Sure. Where d'you wanna go?”

“Italian? Tonight, eight sharp?”

“Okay.”

Since there was nothing to fuss about, Nate picked up a random pair of jeans and his favourite leather jacked and headed to meet Ray in the control room expecting exactly squat. Which was the reason why he almost choked on his own saliva when he saw Ray waiting for him in a _tux_. Bowtie and all.

“Oh.” Nate's tongue tangled in his mouth. He couldn't remember how to use it. Or any words in general, for that matter. “Wow. You look...” Hot. Great. Exceptionally handsome. “Uh... I feel underdressed, now.”

“No, it's alright. You look damn fine, bro.” The way Ray looked at him made him feel _overdressed_. But it couldn't be. Ray was just being polite, as per usual.

“Thanks.” Nate nodded in his general direction. “You, too.”

Satisfied, Ray dialled the coordinates for their destination, then gestured for the exit. “Shall we?”

The place was beautiful. An antique restaurant on the banks of the Canal Grande, serving food that looked and smelled delicious and tasted even better. Nate didn't question the choice: he loved Venice and Ray knew. It was only a coincidence the environment was so... on point.

It was a pleasant dinner, against all odds. They chatted and laughed and sipped expensive wine for hours, and by the time their coffees came there was no one else left on the terrace, so they decided to take their cups and go to sit on the marble balustrade to enjoy the view.

Everything was perfect. Nate couldn't have asked for a better night, even if in his daydreams things usually took a different turn.

Unrealistic, yeah.

When Ray straightened up and inhaled deeply, Nate knew immediately something was up, and he had a bad feeling about this.

“I had a little chat with Zari,” Ray begun, and Nate's heart stopped. Oh, this couldn't be good. “And she, uhm... she made me realise I've been a bit... dense about a few hints you may have been trying to drop on me.”

“She did _what_?” Nate couldn't believe his ears. “Oh my god. I'm gonna kill her.” That little traitor...

“She was just trying to help,” said Ray with a small shrug.

"Well, I could have embarrassed myself on my own, thank you very much!” Nate steeled out, just long enough to crumble the porcelain cup in his hand and squeeze its pieces until they cut into his skin.

Seemingly unaffacted by this overreaction, Ray plucked every single shard from Nate's hand and collected them into his empty cup. “Why would you be embarrassed?” he asked then, softly, watching the cuts in Nate's palm heal one by one.

Nate yanked his hand away. “We're here just because Zari talked you into this!” he yelled, furious and so damn _ashamed_ . “What did she say? _'Poor Nate is crushing so hard on you, why don't you ask him out for a pity dinner'?_ God, I feel so humiliated!”

Ray tried to take his hand again, but Nate didn't let him.

“This is not about pity _at all,”_ Ray insisted. He sounded sincere, at least. “And I'm still confused as to why this is humiliating to you.”

Nate snorted ruefully. “Well, duh, who wants to be on a romantic dinner with someone who isn't romantically interested?”

Ray blinked, then a small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he said: “Who said I wasn't?”

The neurons in Nate's brain blacked out. “Wait, _what?_ ” Had he just heard what he was convinced he'd heard? Had Ray just said... “I- I thought this was a bro thing. You know, just two dudes chilling together? Platonically? No homo?”

The coy smile on Ray's lips broadened. “Buddy,” he said with a laugh. “I'm wearing a tux and we're in the fanciest restaurant in Venice, _Italy._ I ordered _Dom Pérignon.”_ He spread his arms as if to stress the obviousness of the situation. “This is _full homo.”_

“Oh my god. “ It was a _date_. Nate felt like crying.

No, he wanted to smile.

Scratch that, he wanted to cry.

No, no, he wanted to punch Ray. And to kiss him. Kiss him, then punch him, then kiss him again. And punch him again.

“Oh my god, this is a date.”

Ray stepped closer. The smile turned into a smirk. “I hope so?”

Nate couldn't stop thinking of all the signs he's missed – or, rather, ignored deliberately. He'd been so disillusioned he had blinded himself. What an idiot.

“I feel enormously stupid.”

“Yeah,” Ray ducked his head apologetically. “That’s how I felt when Z told me about your attempts to… you know…”

“Tell you I love you?”

Ray's eyes bolted up and pierced Nate with a pathetically blissful look. “Can you- can you say that again?”

_Oh, Raymond. You're too precious for this ugly world._

“I love you, Ray Palmer,” Nate happily repeated, basking in the genuine joy he saw appear over Ray's face.

“Wow.” Ray couldn't seem to stop grinning – quite nervously, acually. “It sounded so fake when I tried to imagine you say that.”

“You imagined me say that I loved you?”

“Yeah.”

Nate gave him an affectionate pat on his arm. “You beautiful dork.”

How did he even deserve this man?

“It didn’t feel very realistic, though,” Ray continued, his grin dimming down. “I kept telling myself: _Why would he like you that way, Ray? He’s amazing and you’re just… you_.”

“Really?” Nate felt a big, touched smile spread goofily across his face. He absolutely didn't deserve this man. “That's what you think of me?”

Ray took Nate's hands in his own, then stared at him solemnly and said: “I think the world of you.”

Nate had to bite his lip to prevent his stupid smile from spreading too much. “You realise you're my absolute favourite person in the whole universe, right? You could've said something.”

“You had Amaya, Nate.” There was a hue of sadness in Ray's tone. “And she was smart, and brave, and beautiful, and… _a woman_.”

“My thing with Amaya started because I knew my crush on you was hopeless,” Nate clarified at once, and Ray's jaw fell.

“You had a crush on me _before_ Amaya?”

“Dude,” laughed Nate. “I was a goner the moment you gave me that pep talk after that damn dwarf star bullet nearly killed me. I'm pretty sure I had heart eyes the whole time I listened to you.”

“Oh.” Ray's face froze in surprise. It stayed like that for a few seconds, then it gradually became pensieve. “That experience did trigger a lot of feelings, apparently.”

“Wait,” Nate pointed a finger at him in sheer disbelief. “You too? Old West?”

“I thought I was going to lose you.” Ray checked again Nate's palms, his thumb brushing over the smooth skin where the cuts had been. “I believed I’d made you invulnerable with the serum that gave you your powers, and seeing you injured, and _bleeding_ … I was going to tell you, you know?” He gazed up, cracked a tentative half smile. “The whole speech I gave you about bravery – I was just trying to find the courage to tell you how I felt. But then you looked at me, and it was so intense I- I started rambling and then… you know the rest.”

A bizarre mixture of feelings was simmering within Nate's chest: fondness; hysteria; relief; fear; happiness... All of this because one single guy cared about him.

“That was the exact moment I realised I wanted our bromance to drop the B. Right there I thought: _Nate, my friend, you are fucked. You’ve got it real bad for this big guy here. Sad short story: he’s your BFF_.”

Ray shook his head amusedly. “We could have… _all along_ …”

“In my defense,” Nate interjected. “I did drop _a lot_ of hints.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Buddy,” Nate's hands grabbed Ray's shoulders and shook him lightly. “We went all Brokeback Mountain in front of a fire in the Cretaceous. I _literally_ told you I couldn’t resist your charm!”

“I thought you were joking.”

Nate was too elated to argue. “You gotta learn how to flirt, pal.”

Ray blushed and glanced shyly at him through his eyelashes. “Maybe you can teach me?”

“Well, I’m the master of- Whoa, that was smooth!” Nate high-fived him proudly. Oh, this felt good. Even better, it felt like _them_.

“Sorry it took me so long to catch up,” muttered Ray after a while.

“Well, I didn’t go anywhere, did I?”

“Thanks for waiting for me.”

Nate shook his head. “I wasn’t _waiting_. Honestly? I never actually believed you’d ever return my feelings. I just… couldn’t move on.”

“I'm glad you didn't. I mean, I'm not glad that you felt bad this whole time because you thought _-_ I just- ”

Nate burst our into a heartful laughter and soon Ray joined him.

“Man, we're bad at this.”

“Terrible,” Ray agreed. The atmosphere was light, serene. Nothing had broken. Nothing had been ruined. There had been a change, but it was a change for the better.

The Canale was silent around them. The lights behind the windows in the colourful houses shimmered in the black waters below. Nate was still finding it hard to process what had just happened.

“So,” he began with a deep breath. “When you say you're _interested_ , what exactly...”

Ray cast him a knowing chuckle. “You wanna know _exactly_ how I feel about you?”

“Nah. I mean, that's not so- Yes. Yes, I do.”

Ray brushed his fingers over Nate's hips, causing a shiver down his spine. “Close your eyes, bro.”

“Okay, bro.” Obediently, Nate’s eyes closed. He felt Ray's hot breath over his lips.

“What do you see, bro?”

“Wait,” Nate cracked an eye open. “Are you doing what I think you're gonna do?”

“Of course I am.” One of Ray's hands came up to cover Nate's eyes. “Come on, don't ruin this. What do you see, bro?”

The breath on his face got closer. Nate grinned like a smug idiot because, oh, he so knew where this was going. “Nothing, bro.”

A long pause, and then: “That’s my world without you, bro.”

“Bro.” He opened his eyes and found Ray's dark irises staring right into his soul. “I think I wanna kiss you, bro.”

He leaned in, and Ray leaned in, and said in a hoarse whisper: “Then kiss me, bro.”

And this – when his arms wrapped possessively around Ray Palmer's waist and his lips finally, gloriously met Ray Palmer's lips – was when Nate knew that he owed Zari a big one, and she was going to be utterly insufferable about it.

And, honestly? Who could even blame her?

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I'm a goner for these two giant dorks and here we go again. I had no idea this would end up being soooo long. Sorry. And sorry for any typos that may have escaped my proof readings.  
> As usual, comments are cherished and feed the starving writer's soul.


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